Laudanum was bloody terrible. He hated it.
“My name,” he gritted when she hesitated, lingering near to his bedside.
The instinct to draw his uninjured arm around her and haul her onto the mattress beside him was strong. He resisted, clinging to what little compunction he possessed.
“Nando,” she said, her voice so faint he thought he must have imagined it at first.
But she’d said it.
His name.
“That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” he asked, wincing as another sharp stab of pain radiated from his wound.
“You should get some rest, Your Royal Highness,” she said gently.
“Damn it, you’re to call me Nando. I drank your poison.”
She gave him a small smile. “You didn’t specify how many times I was to say your name. Once shall suffice.”
Once would never suffice when it came to this woman. He wanted to hear her saying his name again and again. He wanted her to moan his name when she came. He wanted more from her than he could even comprehend. Certainly more than he could tell her.
She’d flee like a frightened doe alerted to the hunter’s approach if he did.
“That was positively Machiavellian of you,” he praised her instead. “I’ve been soundly routed at my own game.”
She was frowning again. “I’ve never seen a wounded man so full of vigor.”
“How many wounded men have you seen?”
“Only you, Your Royal Highness.”
He stared at her, his vision beginning to soften at the edges as the laudanum took hold. “It’s not every day I’m nearly assassinated. I’m not certain what manner of vigor is called for on such occasions.”
Eleanora shook her head at him. “How can you find levity in your present circumstances?”
“Easily enough. I didn’t die, therefore I’m vastly amused. Whoever intended to kill me had dreadful aim. The poor fellow really ought to practice more.”
This time, a sound stole from her, small and sudden, before she pressed a dainty hand to her lips to stifle it.
“Too late, my dear. I already heard your amusement.”
Deus.He wanted to worship this woman. He coveted all her smiles. He longed to kiss every inch of her. To pleasure her as she deserved. To melt her ice.Everything.He wanted her complete and utter surrender. She was more intoxicating than the finest spirits, and he wanted to drown himself in her potent allure.
“I shouldn’t have found humor in the situation. Forgive me, Your Royal Highness.”
“I insist you do penance by sitting with me,” he said, doing his best impression of his imperious brother.
She eyed the chair she had so recently vacated as if it were a peril she couldn’t bear to face. “Why do you wish for my presence?”
“Because you soothe me,” he said easily. “And because I like you, Miss Brett. I want you here, and so here you are.”
“You were being a petulant child, Your Royal Highness,” she told him.
“My dear Eleanora, have you met me? Iama petulant child.”
Her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile but refused to allow further amusement to crack her grim shell.
“You aren’t even making an effort to defend yourself.”
